


Her Princess

by Ambromich



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 01:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambromich/pseuds/Ambromich
Summary: Fluff with a bit of smut. Insight into our two lovely ladies' lives.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 4
Kudos: 150
Collections: 5sk





	Her Princess

Pure unadulterated fluff. Don't own anyone or anything other than my hormonal imagination. Enjoy :)

Please excuse any grammar mistakes, I typed this out on my phone. I will correct later.  
____________________________________  
Rolling over she smiled lazily as her body rolled into the warmth of her princess. Reveling in the feel of soft and smooth skin her fingers were dancing over. Her eyes slowly opened her eyes coming face to face with her precious love. Never would she have ever thought she would feel this much love towards someone. Most days, especially in the moments waking up to the love of her life, she felt as if her heart would burst. A feeling she hoped would never diminish.

She pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around the warm body, and intertwining their legs. Running her hand through morning tousled hair. She slowly placed small kisses

starting at her forehead, to her cheek, and down her jaw to her neck. She softly brushed her lips against her lover's ear with a feather-light touch before whispering "Good morning, Princess."

Without opening her eyes, her princess smiled and snuggled deep into her neck. With only a soft moan and sigh in response. Both ladies fell gently back to sleep with loving smiles on their faces.  
____________________________________  
Her phone began to buzz in the middle of a meeting. Seeing that it was her love she subconsciously smiled softly. She pretended to not notice her colleagues smirk or the heat she felt from the blush rising in her cheeks as she excused herself. Walking out of the conference room she answered softly greeting her lover "Hello beautiful."

"Hey, you. How's my Princess' day going?"

Any other time in her life, during any of her past relationships, would she have ever tolerated being calling princess. Now here she was, during working hours no less, standing in the hall smiling like a goofy love-struck teenager. Hearing her lover call her princess always brought a smile to her face and a tingle all over her body. She absolutely adored being called that, but only from her love. Her love could do no wrong. Her love held her heart like no one else ever had.

"Much better now that I get to hear your voice."  
____________________________________  
She knew her morning was packed with meetings and knew her lover wouldn't have eaten. So she made an executive decision, as girlfriends will do, and picked up her lover's favorite lunch before making her way to her building. While they certainly weren't hiding their relationship, they decided there was no need to make an announcement. They both also thought it would be hysterical to see people's reactions.

She smirked as she entered the building already getting a curious look from security. The entire Paris debacle was known to all who read page six. She managed to keep a straight face as she made her way to the other woman's office. Some had stopped mid-sentence upon seeing her walking down the hall. One even dropped her phone. She could hear the whispers asking what she was doing there.

Walking straight to her love's desk without so much as a knock, she snuck up behind her and whispered "Special delivery" in the voice-only reserved for the bedroom (wherever they decided that was at the moment) while placing lunch in front of her love.

The other woman closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before biting her lip and asking, "Is that what I think it is?"

"My Princess' favorite lunch? Why yes it is."

Finally turning in her chair, smiling from ear to ear, she wrapped her arms around her love and went in for a hungry kiss. Neither noticed the small group of onlookers that had assembled wide-eyed at the scene in front of them.  
____________________________________  
By the time they greeted each other at the end of their days they barely made it out the front door before they began to undress each other. During their lunch visit, not only had she brought lunch but also her teasing spirit. She teased with light, but suggestive, touches and soft kisses. However, what had driven the other woman crazy is how she made it clear they were together, that she was hers, and the look of pride on her face as she did it.

This was another thing her lover did that turned her on immensely but would never have been tolerated by any of her past partners. She was not an object to be had. But like much of everything else, it was different with her. With her, she wanted to world to know she was hers.

She was certainly doing a great job of reminding her of that. With her arm slid underneath the other woman she continued to pound the strap on she wore into her. Her lover was beneath her gasping and moaning in pleasure. Arms at her side grasping at the sheets, head tilted back as her lover pulled her hair and head back exposing her neck for her to play with.

Growling in her ear she spoke roughly, "Is that what my Princess wanted? My cock slamming into her?"

"God yeeeeeeesssssss."  
____________________________________  
It was now 3 AM. They had been laying in bed still naked talking about everything and anything. This was their second favorite part of making love. They would spend hours afterward in bed talking. They shared their days, secrets, fantasies, fears, and got to know even more about one another. Both ladies adored seeing the other completely relaxed and open.

Their hush tones were becoming whispers amongst their yawns. Noticing her lover was fighting to keep her eyes open, she sighed her laugh and pulled her close. Sliding one arm under her neck so she laid her head on her shoulder, her other arm pulled the covers over them before hugging her close.

Kissing her forehead she whispered, "sleep, Princess." Getting a soft moan and smile in return she smirked smugly reveling in the fact that while Miranda Priestly might have been a formidable fashion queen to the world she was her Princess.


End file.
